


Angels Fight with Devils

by InsomniacIdea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Good Friend, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24189877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsomniacIdea/pseuds/InsomniacIdea
Summary: Bokuto has a mental breakdown and comes to Kuroo for support.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94





	1. Kuroo

**Author's Note:**

> Bokuto is studying education, Kuroo chemistry, Kenma animation, and Akaashi psychology.  
> Akaashi and Bokuto are living together in an apartment. Kuroo has his own apartment that Kenma usually visits, and Kenma lives in a university dorm.  
> Bo and Kuroo are in their 3rd year, Kenma and Akaashi in their 2nd  
> Only Bokuto has continued to play volleyball
> 
> This is all implied/referenced in the story, but I always find having a key helps
> 
> Constructive criticism appreciated

Kuroo was having a perfect day. Classes were cancelled due to an incoming typhoon, he didn’t have to work, and Kenma was visiting. The lights were off, the living room of Kuroo’s apartment only lit by the dark gray light shining through his red curtains. He had the warmth of his boyfriend under his arm, because the small blonde had come over last night and couldn’t go back to his dorm now during the storm. After a lazy morning in bed slowly re-exploring each other’s bodies, they were curled on the couch with Kenma playing some game on the PS4 and Kuroo just reveling in the peace of the moment. He smiled at the mix of the video game sounds softly coming from the TV and the rain pelting the windows, combining to make a strangely serene soundtrack. Kuroo was struck by the understanding that he could live the rest of his life in this moment and die a happy man. He had no intention of moving from this spot.

There was a frantic knocking at the door.

Kuroo jumped out of his skin, though Kenma didn’t even look up from his game. At least, not at first. After a few seconds where Kuroo didn’t respond to the knocking, he gave him the look. 

“Kenma, they’ll go away if I ignore ‘em long enough.”

The blonde just blinked as the pounding continued, the gaze not changing.

“You do the same thing when people try to visit you. I’m comfy.”

There was a wail out in the hallway and it sounded like the person began kicking the door along with the knocking. The other man’s face grew harder as he stared at Kuroo.

“Fine, fine. I’ll get the door.” He sighed and extracted himself from the plush, warm surface of the couch watching as Kenma fell against the spot he had vacated because he no longer had a solid body to lean on. The game started up again anyways, the small man not adjusting his position. Out in the hallway a chant had started up “KurooIreallyreallyneedtotalktoyou. Openupopenupopenup.”

Kuroo sighed, undoing the privacy lock as he whipped open the shabby metal door. His gaze met the slightly shorter man on the other side. Of course it was him. “You better be fucking dying, Bo. I’m not awake enough to deal with your problems.”

Bokuto’s hair was flattened, dripping water onto the ugly-patterned carpet of the hallway. His clothes hadn't fared much better, the green graphic tee he wore was stuck to his chest and the plaid purple pajama pants were sliding down due to the weight of the water. One hand scratched his head, making his wet hair stick up in strange directions, while the other pulled one side of the waistband of his pants back up over his hip. “But it’s 2 o'clock.”

Kuroo stood aside, holding the door open for his asshole best friend to come through, “It’s always too early for your shit.” To Kenma, he shouted, “Babe, can you grab Bo a towel?”

“No.”

“Of course not,” Bokuto was wandering around the apartment looking at the various posters and pictures on Kuroo’s walls that he’d seen perhaps hundreds of other times. Water was dripping all over the floor, making the carpet dark brown in splotches surrounding the walking disaster, “Bo, just- here. Stay.” He led him into the kitchen, which had laminate floors - floors that won’t mold if they got wet - turning on the dingy yellow light over their sink as he walked past the switch.

“Alright.” His whole body seemed to droop.

Oh no. That’s no good. Kuroo could never get Bokuto out of his slumps. He might have to call in backup if his emo mode gets too bad. Quickly rushing to the bathroom, he grabbed a fluffy pink towel off the shower door (the color was Kenma’s fault, he had decided to throw a red sweatshirt into the washer while Kuroo was doing a load of whites). Passing through the living room once again to get to the kitchen, the older man patted his boyfriend on the head sarcastically. “Thanks for all your help.”

His monotone voice responded without missing a beat, “Of course, Kuro. Whatever you need.”

Making it back to the kitchen, Bo was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall and staring into space forlornly. His eyes raised up to meet Kuroo’s after the dark-haired man cleared his throat. He tossed the towel onto his best friend’s face and groaned as he lowered himself onto the floor across from him, leaning back against the cheap wooden cabinets. Kuroo’s clever eyes studied the wreck of a man in front of him as he dried his hair and stripped off his wet shirt and pants. There was a rumble of thunder outside. Once down to his atrocious fruit-patterned boxers, Bokuto hung the now damp towel around his neck and sighed, hands twisting together in a habit he had picked up from his boyfriend.

“So. What’s goin’ on, bro?”

He leaned his head back against the light green wall and closed his eyes, letting out a weary sigh. “It’s about Keiji.” Another loud thunderclap wracked the building and the unwashed dishes in the sink shuddered and clinked together.

“Trouble in paradise?” Kuroo’s smirk juxtaposed with his worried eyes, “Should I break out the vodka?”

Bokuto just waved him away, “No, no. That will just make things worse.” He sniffled, letting out a sad bark of laughter, “I’m so pathetic. I don’t deserve Keiji. He’s so beautiful and smart and perfect and I- I’m- I should probably just break up with him. He’d be better off-”

“Woah, slow your roll. You love him, right?” There was a short nod from his half-naked friend, who had pulled his knees up to his chest and was looking strikingly similar to a scolded kid with his head downturned and shoulders slumped. “Don’t automatically jump to you guys breaking up. A small issue isn’t worth your happiness, you know. Sometimes shit happens, but you gotta make your way through it and in the end, you both come out stronger.” He knocked one of Bokuto’s feet with his own playfully, but the older man didn’t move from his sulking position.

Another roll of thunder came from outside and a bright flash came through the window. The TV Kenma had been playing on suddenly went dark, as did the light they had on in the kitchen. Quiet curses were thrown out by the younger man, but he stood and decided to join the two on the floor, curled up against Kuroo’s side.

Apparently having been listening to their conversation, the blonde offered his piece, “I know for a fact that Akaashi-san loves you more than anything, Bokuto. If you dump him, even if it is because you think he’ll be happier, he will be devastated.”

Boktuo raised his head from where it was hidden in his knees, tears streaming down his face, “You don’t know what I did, though. I hurt him.”

“Hurt him how?” Kuroo questioned cautiously, “Like made him feel bad, or…” He trailed off, letting the silence speak for itself.

“No. Like he has bruises because of me. I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.” Bokuto’s hands ran through his hair, agitated.

The chemistry student sucked in a breath, looking down to meet his boyfriend’s large golden eyes. This was… alarming. The older man chanced a look back across the floor at Bokuto, who had started to pull at his hair with the hands buried in it as he took shaky breaths. Kuroo looked back down at Kenma, “Can you...?” He didn’t even need to finish his sentence before the blonde was nodding, standing up quietly to find his phone and make a call.

Kuroo himself moved to sit next to his friend, carefully untangling Bo’s hands from his hair. “Tell me what happened.” They were in the middle of the storm now, wind outside the building whipping trees into the glass of their second-story window, thunder crashing, lightning flashing.

“So, I got home last night after practice and he was already in bed. He looked so cute with those tiny little sleep shorts he always wears and his messy hair. I don’t know what it was. I think maybe I was still running on adrenaline and I had had a really shitty week, you know, so I just pounced on him. I pinned him down and started kissing him and he tried to push me away, but you know he can’t move me on his own and I didn’t want to stop so I just grabbed his hands and kept going.” He sniffed, leaning onto Kuroo’s shoulder, “He told me to stop, to hold on and wait, but I wouldn’t. I didn’t give him nearly enough prep and I had a hand on the back of his neck the whole time just shoving him into the mattress.”

Bokuto’s voice broke down into a sob. Kuroo was stunned. The story went against everything he knew about his friend’s character. He is incredibly strong and has some severe mood swings, but he’s never been violent. He distinctly remembers two years ago, when they were Freshmen in college, Bokuto had cried because he killed the tiny spider that had been living in the corner of their dorm room. “What happened after?”

His gray-haired man shrugged half-heartedly, “We both fell asleep as soon as I was done. When I got up this morning, I saw the bruises he had on his hips and neck and how puffy and ruined his-” He stopped for a second, looking at Kuroo, “his hole was.” The younger cringed at the picture of how Akaashi’s ass looked after sex. “And I was so disgusted with myself. I covered him up with a blanket, threw on some clothes and left. I wandered around for a couple hours and now I’m here.”

There was a good minute of silence as Kuroo considered his friend’s story. He had basically raped his boyfriend, and that was nothing to take lightly. “You should definitely talk to him, that’s a given. Explain that you got carried away, ask for forgiveness, and say you’ll never do it again. Take him out somewhere nice, make a day just for him. I think that’s the most you can do while you wait for Akaashi to get over it.” He winced, “That was a poor choice in words, I mean wait for Akaashi to absolve you.”

“You don’t get it, Kuroo. I wanted to do that to him. I’ve wanted to do that for a while. And I don’t think I can guarantee that I won’t do it again.”

The dark cat-like eyes narrowed. “What are you saying, Bo?”

“Look, I love Keiji. I do. I love him so so so so much. But sometimes when I get in a certain mood there’s a part of me that just wants to fucking destroy him. And I know I’ll regret it. I hate even the thought of hurting him. But at the same time I want to have my way with him, treat him like a sex doll, see his tears. It’s so fucked up. This is the first time I’ve lost control, but I don’t want it to happen again. So it’s better if we break up, right? That way I can stop him from getting hurt again.”

Kenma emerges from their bedroom (technically it’s Kuroo’s, but he sleeps over often enough that he considers it theirs) and sits back down on the old, worn couch. Making eye contact, the young blonde nods at his boyfriend, who nods back in silent communication. Gently, he speaks, “Bo, I’m not an expert, but I think you might need some professional help. If you’re struggling with your emotions and urges, it’s best not to ignore them. But I don’t think this means you have to end your relationship, just find another way to cope. Besides, Akaashi is studying to be a psychologist, I’m sure he’ll understand if you talk it out.” The power suddenly came back on, the yellow light above them and the TV blinked to life, the latter playing the soft opening music to Kenma’s video game, reset from when it had been preemptively shut down.

“Like he would even want to talk to me after what I did to him.” Bokuto grumbled sadly.

“Have some faith in him, bro. If he loves you half as much as I think he does, he’ll try to work it out with you. In the meantime, I’ll get you some clothes and then we can pig out on junk food and watch your weird-ass game shows for the rest of the night. How does that sound?”

The gray head gave a short nod. He had stopped crying, but it was obvious he still wasn’t feeling good. Not that Kuroo really expected him to after what he had just told him. He stood up with a sigh, wiping his damp hands due to Bokuto’s skin off on his sweats, leaving dark gray prints where the water soaked in. He picked up his friend’s dripping clothes from the floor on the way out to throw them on the vent to dry off.

When he was looking through his closet to find a shirt that would fit the shorter but stockier man, he felt eyes on his back. Looking over his shoulder, Kuroo met the golden eyes of his lover. “Akaashi is coming, right?”

Kenma hummed, signalling a yes, and Kuroo heard movement as the younger moved across the room to lay on his stomach on the bed. Deciding on a slightly oversized blue hoodie from his visit to California, the raven moved to his dresser for a new pair of boxers and pants. “He told me what happened. Akaashi, I mean.” 

Settling on an old ratty pair of black joggers and a random clean pair of underwear, Kuroo threw the outfit onto the bed near Kenma and turned around to face him, leaning back against the dresser with his arms crossed. “What did he think?”

“He said he walked in with a strange look in his eyes and then just kind of came at him. He didn’t mind the roughness so much, but he just wanted to stop and talk out his mood a bit.”

The chemistry student nodded absentmindedly, looking off into the distance. “I think Bo needs to get some mental help. He might have some kind of bipolar disorder.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Do you think I should tell him that Akaashi is coming?”

Kenma blinked, considering the option, “No, it would probably be better not to. He might think that we set him up or something and that wouldn’t be good, especially in this state.”

Kuroo sighed, nodded, and pushed himself off the dresser to grab the clothes off the bed and head out of the room to the kitchen where his best friend was still slumped against the wall.

“Here, Bo. These are for you. Go change. You can put your boxers over the vent with your other clothes.”

The older education major stood up slowly. He grabbed the bundle of clothes and wandered off to the bathroom without meeting his eyes. By now the storm had calmed down, still raining, but more of an easy downpour than the maelstrom it had been earlier. There was no more thunder. Kuroo knew this was only one of the first waves of the typhoon, but for now it was quiet, and that was all that mattered. 

The black-haired man sunk down onto the couch, using the playstation controller to turn off the still-running console. He changed the input back to his cable box and browsed for Bokuto’s favorite show, Takeshi’s Castle. Once he found it - he was in luck, there were reruns playing into late tomorrow night - he pulled Kenma’s green fleece blanket over himself and listened to the sound of rain streaming down the window behind him. He wondered how long it would be until Akaashi came. He had no doubt they would work it out, they loved each other too much to let go.

Kenma padded out from their room with his phone, settling down next to his boyfriend. When Bokuto emerged from the bathroom, dressed, and sat down on the couch on the other side of Kuroo, he turned up the volume and got lost in the bizarre painful world of Takeshi’s Castle.

The afternoon passed quietly with Kenma playing on his phone for a while before grabbing his laptop and working on his animation project and Bokuto watching the antics on TV silently, albeit Kuroo spotted a few grins that were quickly smothered.

Around 6:00, when everyone was starting to get a bit hungry, there was a knock at the door. It was two quick raps, night and day different to the frantic pounding that had interrupted them earlier. Shooting a look at Kenma, Kuroo stood, opening the door without looking - he already knew who it was.

Standing outside the door was the slightly wet Akaashi. He at least had the sense to bring an umbrella out into the typhoon, Kuroo could see it dripping on the carpet next to him, but the wind must have blown some of the rain underneath it. They shared a look of understanding, “Kuroo-san, is Bokuto-san here?”


	2. Akaashi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi's perspective of the morning and afternoon.

Akaashi woke to a cold bed. It wasn’t unusual, since his boyfriend was an early-riser and usually went for a jog in the mornings, but the clock read 11:24 and he couldn’t hear the shower running, much less the TV that’s volume was usually kept just shy of eardrum-bursting. He usually lets Akaashi know before he leaves, because he knows the younger worries about him, but he has had no such wake-up call. 

Turning over to check the other side of the bed, pain shot up his spine. The memories of last night came rushing back. How Koutarou came in with a strange look on his face. How, before he could ask what was wrong, he was on top of him. How he had been licked, bit, and fucked all night long.

That was probably why Kou went mysteriously missing. He’s been known to overthink and overreact to situations, especially when it came to Akaashi himself.

Akaashi rolled over in bed, thankful that classes were cancelled as he did not want to sit all day aching like he was. Getting up was even more painful and before he went to the bathroom, he hobbled out to the kitchen to take some ibuprofen. Waiting for the cup to fill with water, Akaashi felt something slide down his thigh. Right, they hadn’t used condoms, had they? All the more reason to take a shower. He popped the two tabs into his mouth, chugging the water and setting the glass into the sink. He’d wash it when he had the time.

Limping his way to the bathroom, he turned the shower knob and waited for it to heat up as he looked over himself in the mirror. There were dark bruises all over his body: hickies on his neck and chest, lips an unnatural shade of red, and obvious fingerprints around his hips, waist, and neck. Kou really had held nothing back.

Standing under shower spray, he leaned against the wall, thinking through last night. Something must have upset him enough that he lost control. Akaashi’d never seen him so worked up and angry and he wished they would have got his emotions sorted out before fucking. If they did, maybe he wouldn’t be in so much pain, he idly thought as he lubed up the squeezy silicone bulb he used to clean out his ass of cum. But at the same time, he hadn’t disliked how rough he had been. In fact, his dominating presence was kind of sexy. Of course, they should probably talk it through more about when to stop and how not to get carried away and such, but he wouldn’t be opposed to more nights like yesterday. If he used more lube, of course. And was slightly more in control.

He hummed under his breath as he exited the bathroom with one towel around his waist and the other drying his hair. Picking up the discarded boxer-briefs and pajama shorts on his way to his dresser, he tossed them into the canvas laundry hamper in the corner of their room. He opened the curtains to their balcony, surprised to see the sky as dark as it was. It hadn’t taken long for the blue to dull. From his wooden dresser, Akaashi grabbed a dusty green button up and a gray pair of jeans. He matched the weather, he thought wryly.

While he got dressed, he looked at the wall of their room. It was plastered with pictures of the two of them in a sort of shambled together collage his boyfriend had made. There was no rhyme or reason to which pictures he printed or where he put them, but together the images formed an overlapping, amorphous blob highlighting everyday moments of their life and love story that Akaashi often found himself reminiscing about. From here, he could spy a selfie Koutarou had taken on one of their first dates, when they had gotten turkish ice cream from a pop-up booth in the street. That date had ended with them running home in the rain because neither had paid attention to the forecast or warnings from their parents. He smiled at the memory as he finished the last button (leaving one undone so he could breathe) and rolled the sleeves up to his forearms.

The pain medicine had finally kicked in and Akaashi could walk around the house without limping. He grabbed his phone from where it was charging on the counter, selecting the only number he had favorited. The dial tone rang several times before Bokutro’s voicemail went off: “Hey hey hey, you’ve reached Bokuto Koutarou. I either don’t want to talk to you or I lost my phone.” There’s a laugh, “Anywho, I’ll call you back whenever. Ciao!” Akaashi’s lips curled. He remembered when Kou had recorded that. Sitting on the couch with a bottle of beer after a long practice, he asked Keiji what should be included in a voicemail. He didn’t listen to a single one of his recommendations, but that was typical Bokuto. Realizing he had been quiet for much too long, Akaashi left a simple message, “Hey, it’s Keiji. Call me when you get this, I think we need to talk about some things. Don’t worry, I’m not mad and I have no intentions of breaking up with you. ‘Kay, love you. Bye.” He hoped that would help calm the anxiety he guessed was currently racing through his boyfriend’s veins.

He settles into the plush purple couch (gifted, of course, by Bokuto’s boisterous mother), grabbing his laptop from where it had been charging on a chipped glass coffee table. In waiting for Kou to come home, he started researching mental stressors and sudden bouts of aggression. Ways to cope, possible underlying causes, anything Akaashi could think of that may help him. As the minutes tick by, though, he finds it harder to focus. He doesn’t know when Bokuto left, but it was almost 1:00 already, nevermind the fact that there was a typhoon set to hit soon

Akaashi grabs his phone to try to call him again, hoping Bo wouldn’t immediately press ignore when he sees his contact pop up. “Kou, It’s me again.” He pulls back the sheer curtain and anxiously surveys the sky. The color is rapidly darkening from the light gray it was to almost black, rain pounding into the concrete of the street harder each minute. “It’s getting pretty nasty out there, I’m worried about you. Please come home. Or at the very least tell me that you are somewhere safe. Call me back, Kou. Please.” He hangs up without looking at the phone, as if peeling his eyes off of the sidewalk outside would cause him to miss a large, gray-haired figure running to get inside. After a couple minutes, he shakes himself out of reverie.

To calm his nerves, he begins to clean. Starting at the entry - dear god, Koutarou didn’t even bring his umbrella - he vacuumed, dusted, and organized the entire main room, taking a break in the middle to have some leftover chicken tempura for lunch. As he cleaned, the typhoon hit. It started with a loud pounding of rain on the window and then escalated into growls of thunder and flashes of lightning before just now knocking out all the power. Akaashi stops his straightening of the decorative pillows to open the curtains and light a couple candles to see by, pacing the house as he worries over his boyfriend’s safety. No doubt Koutarou was cold and wet in the torrential downpour, but hopefully he had found some kind of shelter and would come home soon. Akaashi had been trying to give him space to work himself through his mood, but he would have to take a more active approach if he wasn’t home within the next hour. If that meant he had to brave the winding streets of Tokyo alone in a typhoon, so be it.

Cutting through the relative silence of the rain, a loud jingle breaks out, making Akaashi jump in surprise. He quickly picks up his cell, and answers it without even looking at the contact info, “Kou, are you okay? Are you inside?”

“This isn’t Bokuto, it’s Kenma.”

“Kenma. Is he with you? Is he safe?”

There was a rustling sound, “Yeah, he’s safe. But, um, are you?”

Akaashi stops his distressed wandering through the house, pausing right in front of their picture wall. “Am I… Kenma are you okay? What are you talking about?”

“Akaashi-san, what happened last night?”

“Oh,” He lifted his eyes to look at the multiple Koutarous on the wall. They were hard to make out with only the dim yellow light of a candle illuminating them, but he could still picture their shining gold eyes and wide smiles, usually with their arms slung around himself, even if the images themselves were covered with darkness. He remembers how much smaller he looked when right next to the block of solid muscle Kou had become, especially considering how he had grown taller since high school. “He told you about that.”

“Yeah, he told me he hurt you, gave you bruises. Him and Kuro are still talking. He seems,” There was a pause that Akaashi waited through silently, “unstable. So, again, what happened?”

He lets himself fall back on the bed, surrounded by the scent of his boyfriend’s soap. “I don’t really know what happened. I was ready for bed and reading a book while I waited for Kou to get home. He came in and I remember him looking… off. Like he wasn’t himself. Next thing I know he drops his bag and is on top of me.” He locks his gaze on the ceiling fan, it was dark and unmoving due to the power shortage, but it was an anchorpoint for his eyes, “We fuck and then we fall asleep and that’s it.”

There’s a moment of silence, presumably while Kenma processes the information, “There has to be more. Bokuto-san is breaking down in the other room over hurting you and you seem completely fine.”

He turned onto his side, staring out the glass of the balcony doors at the storm outside while he decided how much he wanted to reveal to a third party. “To be honest, I was scared. I’ve never seen Bokuto that way before. He was crying, but he seemed so angry and he was mumbling curses under his breath. I-” He sighed, “I didn’t really feel in the mood while he was so obviously out of control. So, I struggled, but he fought back and the sex was rough, but that’s not why I wanted to stop. I wanted to talk out how he felt, what happened that made him feel that way. I was planning on having the conversation this morning, but he was gone when I woke up and hasn’t been back.”

Kenma hummed, “So, there was no domestic abuse.”

That was harder to answer than it should be. Bokuto and his’ relationship had been one of the most steady out of all of their friends. They cared about each other probably too much to be considered normal. But, there was explicit non-consent. Akaashi had said no multiple times, and Bokuto didn’t heed his pleas. He didn’t feel unsafe or used at any point. He would probably never feel that way in Koutatrou’s presence. Which means he is definitely not a victim of rape, right? But if his boyfriend had misinterpreted his protests as real cries for help and not the requests for a pause, he may think differently. “From my perspective, there was no abuse.” 

“Alright. Well, Kuro is probably going to have him stay with us tonight. Do you want to talk to him today?”

“If possible.”

“I would give him a couple hours to rest. He’s still pretty upset.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

“Bye.”

The dial tone sounded and Akaashi hung up. His heart hurt to know that Kou was so tormented about the situation last night. He should have made his thoughts clear to him, not fallen asleep right after, leaving Bokuto to overanalyze and draw the wrong conclusions. The whole misunderstanding was down to him. He gave the wrong signals and never bothered to clear them up.

Akaashi sat and looked down at his hands. Letting out a deep breath, he forced himself to stop fidgeting with his fingers. He sat there, thinking about Bokuto and his fragile emotions, about how he could help, about how it took his friend calling for him to realize the damage he had inadvertently caused the love of his life. The lights flickered back on and he could hear the air conditioner’s barely-there humming begin again. He didn’t know how long he sat on the edge of their bed staring through his hands, but eventually, he forced himself to look up. It was in the past now, the most he could do was repair Kou’s state-of-mind. But he couldn’t even do that immediately.

Feeling guilty, miserable, and lonely meant there was only one thing to do. He pulled Kou’s favorite blue comforter off their bed and huddled it around himself as he walked out to their couch to watch the DVR recordings of soulless, scripted dating shows until he felt better. It was his cure-all. Though usually he watched them with one of Kou’s muscled arms around his waist. But his scent embedded into the blanket would have to do.

Akaashi watched the drama play out on screen with a kind of sad satisfaction. No matter what he and Koutarou went through, he knows that Bo, unlike the sex-crazed models on tv, wouldn’t trade him for the world.

After finishing his 5th episode, he checked his phone. 5:30. He hoped he had given his boyfriend enough time to decompress. Shutting off the tv, he slipped on his tennis shoes and grabbed the clear umbrella kept on a hook in the entry closet.

Akaashi made it down to the lobby and looked outside. Despite Koutarou’s initial protests, their apartment was located on the opposite end of campus to Kuroo’s, about a 15 minute walk away. It was a deliberate attempt coordinated by Kenma and Akaashi to minimize damage and maximize sleep. Now he regrets choosing an apartment so far.

He opened his umbrella and, waving to their landlady Morioka-san, pushed his way out into the storm. The rain pelted down on his umbrella and he needed to keep a strong grip to keep it straight over himself, but he began making his way to Kuroo-san’s apartment. 

Eventually, he was looking up at a nondescript brick building. The bottom floor was a convenience store that made late-night snack runs easy, especially since Kuroo lived just one story above it. Akaashi made his way to the apartment entrance and climbed the dimly lit stairs while he shook out his umbrella onto the concrete of the ground. When he hit the actual apartment floor, it changed to a strange flower-patterned carpeting and his eyes painfully adjusted from the dark of the stairs to the overly-bright fluorescent strip lighting of the hall. He stopped at a door labeled 205.

For some reason he was nervous. Realizing how ridiculous that was - Koutarou is the only person he truly feels comfortable around - he raised his hands and knocked twice. He didn’t have to wait long as he heard the door handle twist before he came face-to-face with Kuroo. He was dressed in his pajamas still, a 3XL shirt reading “Too hot to handle” in English and baggy highwaters he had obviously outgrown years ago, and had an intense look in his eye. An understanding passes between them. Kou must not know he was called to come over. So, even though he already knows the answer, he asks, “Kuroo-san, is Bokuto-san here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is coming out later than I would have hoped, but I have an excuse! First I accidentally downloaded a virus onto my computer and it took a few days to get my laptop back into working order (I’m still not sure if it’s totally gone, but if some hacker wants to spy on me writing gay fanfiction about an anime, it’s no skin off my back) and then I was caught up in protesting the murder of George Floyd. Which leads me to my next point: If you’re reading this while the BLM movement is still active, please take action in any way you can. We’re trying to change the world. 
> 
> This was going to be the last chapter, but it ended up way too long so I split it into two. Not completely happy with it, but it’s alright. Next chapter: the confrontation and comfort we all need.
> 
> As always, constructive criticism is appreciated. :)


	3. Bokuto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited conclusion

It felt like he was floating in a haze. The break down earlier had sapped all his energy and now he was just tired and sad. Make that tired and sad and lonely. Even with Kuroo and Kenma right at his side, the person he really needed wasn’t there. And if he had any sense, which Bokuto knew he did, he would never willingly be alone with him again. Takashi’s Castle helped, even though it’s just a distraction put on to placate him, but whenever he felt like laughing his thoughts just pulled him back down.

There’s a knock on the door, but he doesn’t look up. There’s no reason to - he doesn’t care who it is. That is, until he hears the voice. Low and smooth, he hears Keiji. Asking for him. He sits bolt upright, but he doesn’t have time to move or even decide if he wants to run towards or away from that voice when Kuroo motions his boyfriend inside and they lock eyes.

Akaashi looks as pretty as ever, but every time he blinks he sees the broken and bruised body beneath him telling him to stop. “‘Kaashi, I’m-” His throat is dry, he swallows to wet it, “I’m sorry.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Kenma shift uncomfortably, can see Kuroo shutting the door, sealing the four in. Another wave of the typhoon is beginning outside as the thunder grows louder. And Keiji smiles. He smiles. Like Bokuto didn’t abuse him. Like he didn’t hold him down and rape him. “I’m sorry, too.”

Fuck. He thought he was ready for Akaashi’s rejection, but now that it was here he could feel it like a knife through his chest. But it’s not like he didn’t expect Keiji to break up with him. He had crossed the line. No - he had leaped over the line, happily and with not a single regret until this morning.

His emotions must show on his face because Kuroo looks worried. The taller man grabs onto his forearm and belatedly he realizes Akaashi is also being dragged along. His best friend shoves them both into his bedroom and shuts the door. Through the fake wood of the door, he hears him shout, “You can stay in as long as you want, but talk to each other.”

There is silence broken only by the rain and thunder beating at the window. Bokuto twists his hands together as he watches as Keiji sits on the bottom of Kuroo’s bed. “I called you.” The shorter man pats the mattress beside him, but Bokuto doesn’t move, “I was worried.” The knife twists in his gut.

He mumbles, “I left my phone at home.”

Akaashi hums in acceptance. “Will you please sit down? You look like you’re going to bolt.”

Bokuto looks at his boyfriend; the curly hair framing his face, narrow eyes pleading with him. He’s already done enough to hurt him, if sitting will make his obvious distress dissipate, he’ll do it. He sits next to him, but as far as he can with half of his body falling off the side. “I know that…” He trailed off, trying to get his thoughts in order, “I know that maybe it doesn’t seem like it with me attacking you and all, but I really really love you. Like a lot. But if you want to break up, I- I understand.” Towards the end of his sentence, his throat seemed to constrict like it wanted to keep the words inside of him. He didn’t want to just let Keiji go, he wanted to fight to stay together. But that would make Akaashi sad, which is the one thing he never wants to do. His eyes began to water.

The psychology major blinks several times to process the words, “No, no. I don’t want to break up. I love you too, just like I always have.”

“But I hurt you.” Bokuto’s voice cracks and a hand wipes away the rapidly accumulating tears from his eyes.

“You did.” Keiji scoots himself closer, “But I’ll heal. I took some over-the-counter pain medicine this morning and it worked just fine.” The gunmetal blue of his eyes is earnest and pleading, but he doesn’t know what Akaashi wants from him. The next time he blinks, the first tear rolls down his cheek. Keiji is way too forgiving.

With the sound of thunder from outside, Keiji rushes to soothe him. Bokuto should be the one consoling him, not the other way around. He can’t even do that right. He watches as his boyfriend’s outstretched hand hesitates before touching him and lets out a sob. The younger’s hand rubs up and down his arm, “Kou, what’s the matter? I’m okay, I’m here, I still love you. Nothing has changed.” 

That’s a lie. Akaashi’s movement has revealed his collarbone. The normally pale skin is disfigured with hickeys and Bokuto can just see the peak of purple bruises on the sides of his long neck. “I just that- you’re here helping me when you’re so broken. I feel like a child, like I’m holding you back. I mean, look at you, Keiji. You’re beautiful and talented, and basically a genius. You deserve better than an abusive boyfriend.” The raven-haired man seems to track his gaze and retracts his hand from Bokuto’s arm to subconsciously cover the marks. 

But something in his gaze changes and he’s soon unbuttoning his green shirt. Bokuto scrambles backwards, closer to the headboard as Akaashi stands. He shrugs the material from his shoulders and it falls to the ground. The younger holds his arms out to either side, palms up, spinning in a slow circle to show off the damage done to his torso. There’s the spots when he bit at his collarbone, fingerprints from where he held him down on his neck, waist, and wrists, and his nipples are still flushed from his pinching fingers. “Do you see what you did to me?” Akaashi’s voice is wet and when his rotation is complete, Bokuto sees the tears dripping down his chin, “Yet here I am, trying to convince you that I don’t hate you. And you dare to tell me my own feelings are wrong? We’ve been together for almost 3 years and you want to throw it all away because you were frustrated and needed an outlet?” He is nearly shouting at this point, Kuroo and Kenma surely hearing every word. But his eyes show only desperation, “I don’t care that you were rough. All I want is for you to feel better. This is the first time you have ever touched me with anything less than utmost compassion and respect. I love you, Koutarou. Get that through your thick skull.”

Bokuto didn’t know what to say. He watched as his boyfriend unsuccessfully tried to wipe his face in stunned silence. But inside, he was bursting in happiness. As soon as he saw the bruises this morning, the devil on his shoulder had been promising him that Keiji would want nothing to do with him, but here he was boldly stating his intentions to stay together. And not only that, he said he didn’t even care about his injuries? Dazed, he moves to embrace the smaller man. Keiji immediately relaxed into his arms as Bokuto whispered apologies in his ear.

After a couple of minutes of solid hugging, Akaashi asks, “Can we lay down, Kou?”

He nods, “Yeah, yeah”, and lets go of his boyfriend’s bare back to move onto Kuroo’s bed again while Keiji mimics his motions.

It was absurd. They were laid down on a bed in a room that was not their own, facing each other while smelling someone else’s shampoo and yet it was peaceful. The world did not exist outside of him and his boyfriend, not even the typhoon still raging.

Bokuto props his head up on his palm, “Can I touch you?” He wants to believe that he’s unaffected, but still there’s a part of him that worries about what will happen if he loses control again.

“Of course, you don’t need to ask.” Akaashi smiles, forever gracious.

“I do, though, I don’t want to-”

The black-haired man holds a finger to his lips, “Shhhh, It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

A large hand extends from where it was laying on the black comforter. Despite Bokuto’s best efforts, it still shakes in apprehension, or, at least it does until it lands on the psychology student’s warm waist. It’s a landscape he knows well, Keiji’s body, he’s traversed the dips and curves what may be hundreds of times. When he looks up from the pale skin marked with purple and yellow splotches and meets the gunmetal eyes of his boyfriend, he is reminded of why he fell in love with him. There’s always something going on in Akaashi’s brain and his eyes show everything he’s feeling, if you know where to look.

The younger’s hand goes up to cup his neck and jawline, “So, what happened last night?”

The warmth between them gives Bokuto the strength to answer albeit weakly, “I don’t know. It’s- Honestly it was only a matter of time. Whenever I get frustrated or angry or sad I just want to scream and get it all out. But ever since I started dating you, I wanna let it out on you instead. What happened last night was that, I guess. I’m-” He paused to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat, “I can’t explain why but sometimes I just want to hurt you. Like you know the feeling you get when you see something really cute and you just wanna eughh.” He emphasized his sound effect with his hand that had been running up-and-down Akaashi’s side, leaving for a second to make a clawed hand in the air between them and watched as his boyfriend nodded in understanding, “It’s like that, but you’re the trigger and it’s only because I’m angry.”

He carefully monitored Akaashi’s expression. It didn’t look horrified, though, only thoughtful. “Hmm, well I can’t say that I didn’t like the sex, but-”

Bokuto cut him off, stunned, “You liked it? But you told me to stop so many times and I just held you down and gave you bruises and came inside you even though I know you don’t like that.”

The cheeks in front of him colored slightly, “I said stop because you were obviously upset and I wanted to address that first. And, I don’t know, it just felt good to be manhandled a bit.” Towards the end of his sentence he redened even more and his voice got hesitant. The education major felt like his world had just turned upside down, so really, he had nothing to worry about. Of course, Keiji had been telling him that the whole time, but knowing that he wasn’t just saying he didn’t care about the roughness finally drove it home. 

He rolled onto his back and put both hands over his face, “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I made this a whole big fiasco when it should have been a simple conversation.”

His hands were pulled away by Akaashi as he leaned over him. He was frowning, “Hey, don’t apologize. I appreciate that you felt bad when you thought you had really hurt me, it’s better than pretending nothing happened. And, regardless of my feelings on this particular instance, I would still like it if you saw a therapist and maybe got some of your impulses under control.”

Gray-blue eyes met gold and Bokuto nodded eagerly, wondering what he did to deserve such a smart and caring boyfriend. He smiled at the younger who leaned down to press a small, chaste kiss on his lips. In return, the older flipped them over and began to lightly peck at all of the bruises he made the day before. Underneath him, he watched his chest expand and contract with his breaths, felt his hand tangle in his unkempt hair.

When he was making his way down to the fingerprints on his waist, there was a quiet voice at the door, “Hey, whenever you guys are ready, I made dinner.” Bokuto looks up at the beautiful flushed face of his boyfriend. And, horrifyingly, he tries to get up.

“No, wait, I haven’t finished kissing all your bruises. How are they gonna heal?”

Keiji slides his legs out from underneath the bigger man and sits up, smiling down at him still crouched on the blankets, “We can continue at our own apartment later. But this isn’t our bed.”

The older groans and flops onto his back as he watches his boyfriend put back on his shirt and walk out of the room. He was still kind of in his funk from earlier, but now that he and Akaashi had worked things out, he knew all trace of his bad thoughts would dissipate eventually, at least for a little while. Hopefully when he finds a therapist, he’s able to get some medicine that keeps his emotions steady for longer. He smiles to himself, the world better be ready for him when he does.

He rolls out of Kuroo’s bed, not bothering to smooth out the wrinkles on the previously pristine bedding and heads out to the kitchen where there are pans of food out to take from. His best friend only owns about 5 plates, so with the three already eating and the rest on the drying rack, he comes to terms with having to eat his food out of a coffee mug he finds all alone in his cabinet. He scoops in the rice and shrimp and makes his way to the living room where the rest are sitting. 

Kuroo and Kenma are next to each other on the couch, of course, with a space open next to Kuroo and Akaashi is sitting on the floor across from them. He’s never really enjoyed touching other people (with Bokuto himself being the obvious exception), even friends as close as the former Nekoma duo. He sits down next to his boyfriend with the mug in one hand and a spoon in the other, ready to dig in.

“What the fuck, bro. That’s my only cup.” 

Bokuto shrugs and takes a bite in defiance. The argument that ensues isn’t heated and honestly, it’s more for show than anything. He can see in the chemistry student’s eyes that he’s just relieved to see him back to normal. They talk about light subjects: their old volleyball days, the finals coming up, Kenma’s new project which he graciously shows them on his laptop.

Kenma’s the one who finally brings up the elephant in the room, “So you guys are good?”

There’s silence for a couple seconds as Bokuto turns to look at Keiji and watches him stare back. “Yeah, we worked everything out. Kou is going to try to find a counselor, but this isn’t going to change anything between us.” Akaashi kept talking, but he wasn’t listening. The taller smiled down at the elegant man, God damn he made him so happy. “Some things online said that having a dog can help with stabilizing emotions, so I’m looking into adopting one.”

Bokuto jolted out of his trance. Wait, what? A dog? He stares down at his boyfriend, hoping that he’s being serious. Keiji turns to look at him again and smirks, “Yeah, it was-”

He's cut off by Kuroo sharing his valuable insight, “A dog? Geh, no, get a cat.” He watches his boyfriend roll his eyes.

“Cats aren’t very good emotional support animals.” Kenma supplies  
Kuroo looks betrayed, “So? They’re cute.”

“If you want a cat so much,” Akaashi sighs, “get your own.”

“I would, but pets aren’t allowed here.”

Ignoring that and the conversation between Kenma and Kuroo about cats, the younger man turns back to Bokuto, “What I was going to say is that it was going to be a surprise for our anniversary, but given the circumstances, I figured it would be better if you can just get one now.”

The gray-haired man breaks out into a wide smile, the sun on this cold, rainy day. “Thank you so much, Keiji! You’re the best.”

His boyfriend just shakes his head fondly and holds out his arms, the universal signal for asking for a hug. While in the warm embrace, Bokuto hears him say “We can go to the shelter as soon as this typhoon is over.”

When they part and turn back to the couch, he sees the other two looking at them with secret smiles. Well, Kuroo is smirking and Kenma is hiding his small grin behind his hair, but close enough. “What?” He asks.

“I’m just glad you’re together.” 

That night, after promising Kuroo he will bring back his clothes, the couple leaves hand-in-hand and under the same umbrella. The path home is dark, lit only by street lamps every couple dozen feet, and the sky is downpouring, but Bokuto can still see the face of his love lit up by the light reflecting off the wet streets. And he thinks how lucky he is that he found his true love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, feel free to tell me what you think. This is my first multi-chapter fic and I have many more ideas that I’m hoping to start writing sometime soon, so stay tuned.


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